Obstructed Views
by xMissFortune
Summary: He had decided: he needed a change. But what he didn't realize was that she wasn't offering herself as one when she found him passed out on the side of the road. (AU)
1. Chapter 1

It has been for-damn-EVER since I wrote/posted pretty much anything here. So after being unable to stop the flow ideas that kept spilling out of my brain like mucus out of a runny nose (wonderful metaphor, isn't it), I gave in. So here's a little official:

**BOOYAH! I'M BACK, BABY!**

… and let's move on.

A present day drama, featuring Beastboy and Raven. I'm not even a big fan of the said pairing. So why am I writing it then? The characters fit the plot I thought of. Nuff said.

* * *

2) 'Obstructed Views' (TT fic)

Plot: He had decided: he needed a change. But what he didn't realize was that she wasn't offering herself as one when she found him passed out on the side of the road. (AU)

Char: Beastboy, Raven

Genre: Drama

Rating: strong T

Beta: unbeta-ed at the moment

Obstructed Views

**Chapter 1**

Never again would he, Garfield Logan, in this life (or any other for that matter) ride a bus anywhere. Yup. Never. Never ever EVER. He would make sure that it would become one of those stick-with-you-for-the-rest-of-your-life kind of rule; along with the rule of snapping the neck of any person who uses a deodorant near him.

"Fucking hahh... bastards..." he slurred between dry and heavy pants, woefully dragging his feet one after the other across the white-hot ground.

All in all, he'd have to try and remember not to forget that first rule. Currently it held a bigger importance than creating a massacre. He could see it now: waking up in a dark and comfy room and opening his eyes to a ceiling with big bolded letters 'NEVER RIDE THE BUS AGAIN' right above him. One would think that something like that would be considered 'overdoing it'. Well, it wasn't! It's always the little things you're sure to remember that you most often forget. Like: flush the toilet, put the cap back on the toothpaste, check the expiration date on the milk before you decide to chug it down- and here's a new one to add to the ever-growing collection.

And _to Hell_ if he'd let himself forget this one. Heck, he should tattoo this one on his ass! … Alright, maybe not his ass. His arm maybe...? Yeah! He should tattoo it on his arm so he would have something to remind him to never ride that abomination. For _**the rest**_**.** of his. **God**. _damned_. **Life!**

Not to the other side of town.

Not to work.

**Not **down the street!

And _certainly_ NOT across...

...**a fucking desert.**

~~ ( O ) ~~

It stretched as far as the eye could see, decorated with a few thrown around rocks and cactuses, dry and incandescent, glowing under that relentless ball of fire called the Sun. It radiated more and more heat, swaying reality right before his eyes and, _God_, he really didn't need that right now. The t-shirt that was tied around his head like a turban was long drenched in sweat and only added extra weight to his fickle head.

"'s was all hahh... their fault..." he continued mumbling to himself with another shaky step, "Why not make the holes in the ozone a little bit hahh... bigger you hahh assholes... phew..." With a huff he hunched over with his hands on his knees, feeling a slight tickle of sweat sliding down his scalp. Sweat that oh-so-subtly glided down the back of his neck and continued its journey further south, down his back with... _that cold and heavenly caress that came afterward. The long awaited relief. A reward from the universe. An encouraging pat on the back, as if it were saying like a mentor to his newly employed charge: "Nice work Garfield! Here's a drop of your own sweat to relieve you a bit. Keep it up!" And him beaming with pride, while stumbling with 'thank you's and thinking-_

… How disgusting.

'_Damn it, Gar; you're losing it..._' angrily he wiped his damp forehead with the back of his hand. Any water related thought made him painfully aware of how the inside of his mouth tasted like sand-paper. What wouldn't he give for a tall cool glass of water now. How long has it been since he drank the last bit of water he had? It felt like an eternity. He could just feel his whole body signaling to him that if he didn't get something to drink soon his legs would give out and he'd collapse in a miserable pile of-

...oh, hey, since when did he have three pairs of feet?

. . .

-No, he felt fine.

He blinked hard a few times to steady his swaying vision before slowly straightening up.

Yeah, just _fine_.

As a matter of fact, he felt better than fine. He felt **great!** Yeah, he could do a few more hours of walking around pointlessly. He's down with that. It's cool. Water? Who needs it. And that scorching ball of _hell_ above him? Pfft! No. problem. Bikini weather!

With a determined jerk of his head he begun his trek up the hill in front of him, careful not to trip over any tangled weeds or remains of dried wood. He could feel his dusty all-stars slipping against the loose grains of earth and sand with every worn-out step he took up. Unconsciously he started biting the inside of his mouth as he eyed the top of the hill. His heartbeat picked up with each unsteady step and slip, making his skin quiver. His movements became rushed as he made his way up further and further. More nervous, sloppy, and it wasn't long before the leg he was supporting his weight on slipped and he found himself face down with a mouthful of dirt.

His breath hitched and a yelp escaped him when his bare chest made contact and scraped against the earth as he slid down. He felt pressure beneath his footwear when the ground gave no resistance and just kept crumbling away under his weight. He flailed his arms above his head and dug his fingers into the dirt, grabbing at whatever he could like a cat which was desperately gripping onto the tablecloth to stop its fall. His fingertips burned and he grit his teeth in pain. He kept grabbing away and it wasn't long before he managed to grip a form of vegetation that didn't tear along with its root.

… And this one just happened to have thorns.

"**ARH! Son of a-!**"

They cut into his right hand, making holes in his flesh as if they were shaping a puzzle piece they could fit with perfectly. His mouth agonizingly stretched open. He gagged on his own scream as he bravely tried to swallow it and keep holding onto the thorny weed that kept him from dropping further downwards.

His dry lips trembled and he forced a shaky breath down his lungs.

He could feel thin lines of something sliding its way from the heel of his palm and over his wrist. The warm tickle down the thin skin on his inner-arms drew out a violent shudder from his body and he couldn't help but mumble to himself.

"Shitshitshitshit..." _shit, it hurts..._

He didn't dare look up. The pain made him tense his arm in fear of letting go to the point where it felt he would break his own bones just from the stiffness and pressure. The thorns, of course, only dug deeper. It felt like his palm was forcibly being sewn to something like in one of those damn horror movies he watched and he had seen enough of those with all their gruesome details with flesh sticking out of wires, pikes, and pierced body parts with blood dripping down and- _oh god he really needed to shut up now!_

'_Calm down, calm down... Y-You're tired a-and thinking about death way too much... J-Just calm down..._'

He started feeling around with his other hand to find something... _less painful _to hold onto and dug his feet in hope of some stability until he got up back up. The fast beats of his heart against his ribs was akin as if someone was repeatedly raping on a door.

He hit his forehead against the ground. _Damn it, calm down!_

This... This was too much. The heat, the fatigue and thirst, _the nothingness_, so much nothingness around him, inside him, everywhere. It was all too much. It was cruel and hard and they hit and pressed and pushed at that little box of sanity he hid himself in. And he tried, God, he tried! But the walls, they were just cracking so fast. They were quaking and threatening to fall down and crush him despite his efforts to keep them up.

His breath was picking up and he was sucking in short, quick draws of air through his mouth. Eyes stinging, he pressed them shut and concentrated on making his lips stop trembling. They needed to stop _now!_

"I'm not gonna die..." he croaked out meekly.

Forehead pressed to the ground, he repeated, "I'm not gonna die..." Again. "I'm not gonna die-" "-I'm not gonna die-" "-I'm not gonna die-" He kept muttering over and over.

...I'm (not) gonna die...

...I'm (not) gonna die...

...I'm (not) gonna die...

...I'm (not) gonna die...

And then his tone started shifting. Little by little.

...I'm not gonna die...

Louder.

...I'm _not_ gonna die...

More confident.

...I am not gonna die.

**Defiant.**

_I_, Garfield Logan, am _not__**.**_ going. to. die!

Not here. Not now. Not like this. In the middle of nowhere, dirty, tired, _alone._ Not today.

He opened his eyes, spiteful determination flickering in his irises as he breathed deep through his nose. His face scrunched up slightly when the stinging sensation in his hand died down and was replaced with oppressive numbness. He looked in its direction, noting the fair amount of blood dripping down and mixing in with the dust.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and started unwrapping the sweat-soaked t-shirt with his free hand from his head. He put the salty cloth into his mouth temporarily and started digging around. It wasn't long before he reached a denser layer of earth that wouldn't slide away as easily as the first one did and dug his fingers into it

He stared ominously at his latest challenge. The intensity of his glare suggested as if he were willing the plant to release him rather than it being the other way around. Blood continued to slowly drip in between his fingers and down his right hand-

_A sickly thin hand covered his right one. "Are you sure, Garfield?"_

_It hurt holding her gaze. But he did so anyway; he owed her that much. _

If he had had any saliva left in his mouth, he would have swallowed loudly. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"_I am."_

He uncurled his fingers.

Cold pain shot up his hand muscles, stiffening them. A mixture of a cry and a hiss fought its way out of his mouth as he kept grinding his teeth on his sweaty shirt. He maneuvered his bloody hand as fast as possible to take a hold of the cloth in his mouth and wrap it around it. The light shaking of his hand made the whole motion seem slower than it was. It unnerved him.

Once that was over and done with, he released a sigh of relief. The pain didn't go away or lessen, but the wound was so far safe from getting dirty or infected. That was one less thing off his mind to worry about.

Garfield looked up again. The top a significant few meters away.

It was now or never.

One step, push and he was up again on his feet. Careful to keep his balance, he began tracking up the hill again. Slowly, surely. He kept his breathing tempo in sync with his footsteps. He needed to stay calm. There was _no reason_ to panic. There was _no reason_ to get worked up or anything. He's fine. Slightly less than fine, but _fine_ enough to keep going. He's been walking for _hours_. He's bound to hit a gas-station or town much sooner than later.

.

.

.

… wait a minute. That made sense. A lot actually.

It would explain why he hadn't come across anything of the sort yet! Because he was _just_ getting to it.

Yeah, that was probably it! And you know what? He would bet a hundred bucks that he'd spot civilization right away when he reached the top!

An optimistic fizz of energy itched his skin and returned a livelier shade of green to his eyes. The top was much closer than before and the fatigue didn't bother him as much suddenly.

- a charming square with a fountain!

The dirty all-stars kicked piles of earth behind him with each confident step he made up.

- a bar or a diner, a good old ice-cream cart somewhere on the side-

The pain in his hand didn't matter anymore. It was overshadowed by his hungry eyes.

- a motel with air-conditioning! Shade! Water! Actual plant life and people!

The distance shortened. He was there. He was almost there! All of it! Just over this hill-

~~ ( O ) ~~

Sand. Dust. A thin faded out road which stretched far into the nothingness of the horizon. And a single tumbleweed being lazily kicked around by a gust of wind.

With bated breath and heavy muscles he stood at the top. Eyes wide open, he drank in the landscape which was epicly presented to him.

.

.

.

.

His brain wasn't fully registering what was in front of him.

Town? People? Water? Shade?

Desert. Tumbleweed. Dust. More sun.

Garfield stood disturbingly still and, face blank, continued to stare at what was presented to him. That lasted for a bit.

And then he moved.

He took a breath and let his head slowly, almost lazily fall backwards. And at the same time, he let out a long, low and almost whiny groan.

"Urrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh..."

He stretched that note until his nose was facing to the sky... And then it erupted into a full-blown roar of frustration.

"**FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"**

With his hands stretched at his side like a madman, he continued to scream until the lack of air prevented him from doing so. But in his current state of rage, not even oxygen deprivation seemed like it would stop him.

He needed to hit something. _**BADLY!**_

So when nothing magically appeared to hit he settled for kicking the sand around him while screaming out a neatly constructed string of 'fuck's, 'shit's and 'motherfucker's to whichever _sick_ dainty that found this **fucking hilarious!**

"I mean Jesus fucking Christ, _why?!_" -kick- "WHY?! Did I ask" -kick- " too" -another one- "much?! HUH?! Did I ask too GODDAMNED MUCH?! ARRGHHHH!" He started swinging his arms around to get rid of the cloud of dust that rose and only seemed to have made it worse.

"SHIIIIIT!" He stomped his foot angrily. His bones shaking with rage he didn't know how to dispel.

"_Fuck_ this! All of **this!** Jump, Her, Him and that shitfaced bus-driver! I hope you hear me you _bold_ _**overweight**_ greasy **douche-bag! **I! Hope! You! Burn! In! Hel-AHHHHH!"

In a split moment of yelling profanities he lost his footing and ungracefully tumbled down. His shouts were muffled but bouts of dirt that filled his mouth as he kept rolling over his head downwards. Upon reaching the bottom he found himself face-down on the ground once again.

Scratches marred his sunburned back and somewhere along the fall the wound on his hand opened further. He didn't so much as hiss. His sweaty cheek resting in the dirt, eyes closed, Garfield Logan... just continued to lie there.

.

.

.

Slowly and unwillingly his eyes opened half way. They stared off into the distance, dazed and unseeing. Hopelessness has finally settled in his muscles.

No more.

J-Just... no more.

He longer saw a reason to stop the stinging in his eyes. Lone salty drops, the only form of liquid within miles, slowly slipped out of his eyes and across his cheek and nose-bridge. They would disappear quickly. Evaporate in the heat and sand without a trace.

His breath was shaking with silenced sobs he dared not release. A man holding onto the last bits of his sanity. He lied there waiting for the next wave of exhaustion to claim him.

As a final comfort he begun running his fingers along the sand beside his head. With each stroke his breath subsided shaking. That simple act put him at ease. The wavy patterns he made were familiar. Like hair. Like long strands of sandy-blond hair.

He pressed his lips together forcefully.

Enough.

It's enough.

With that thought he closed his eyes and relaxed.

There was no reason to panic. There was no reason to get worked up. To struggle.

His life ended while searching for a beginning. How ironic. How poetic.

_...How sad._

* * *

So anything you guys wanna share? Funny? Sad? Part you like the most? Quote? Flame? (_We can roast marshmallows together! :D_)

If you already took the time to read it, you might as well take time to leave a comment. Until the next update!

xMF


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay, chapter 2! And what's this? It was updated under a year?! My, my, I do believe I'm getting better.**

**'Thank you's to: **adventure time idiota1, LightAngelHiroko, Atheau, Zinnia99, TakeonMe-Mow, TooLazyForALegitUsername and writinglovinglaughingliving for reviewing or either following or faving me.

**Thanks for the support you guys. I'll try and keep this worth your while. :)**

* * *

**2) 'Obstructed Views' (TT fic)**

**Plot:** He had decided: he needed a change. But what he didn't realize was that she wasn't offering herself as one when she found him passed out on the side of the road. (AU)

**Chars:** Beastboy, Raven

**Genre:** Drama

**Rating:** strong T

**Beta:** unbeta-ed at the moment

**Disclamer: I don't own the character from Teen Titans, they belong to DC. The same goes for the following songs: "You make my dreams come true" by Hall and Oates, "Slut like you" by Pink. Story idea? Mine. No touchy! D:(**

**Note: the lyrics of the songs (which I DON'T OWN in any way as I mentioned above) have absolutely nothing to do with the chapter except to set an ambient of how I imagined it.**

**Chapter 2**

_"What I want you've got _

_And it might be hard to handle..."_

It was dark. The impenetrable type of darkness common in unpopulated areas and small country towns when nighttime arrives. It conceals any shape and form when the lights are turned off, leaving one to question if he had just gone blind.

_"Like the flame that burns the candle  
The candle feeds the flame, yeah, yeah..."_

This kind of darkness currently surrounded a single dark-blue slightly beaten up pick-up truck. The long-lights could only illuminate so much of the dust-covered pavement in front of it which seemed to stretch far into black infinity. The light coming from the inside of the truck was the only light-source within miles and miles away. The steady hum of the engine mixed with the constant chippering of crickets somewhere off in the background and the loud music coming from the rolled down windows of the said truck.

_"What I've got's full stock__  
__Of thoughts and dreams that scatter..."_

The heartfelt cheery tune was more appropriate for a morning shower than a drive at eleven PM in the middle of nowhere.

_"Then you pull them all together  
And how I can't explain..."_

Not only did the song not match the time and place but it also, hands-down, did not match the atmosphere between the two people occupying the only two seats in the run-down vehicle.

_"Oh, yeah  
Well, well you  
(Ooh-ho, hoo-ooh, ooh-oo)..."_

Had the installed music player had self-awareness of any sort it would have immediately shut up and probably considered committing suicide right on the spot. The atmosphere was so tightly wound up that anyone who couldn't hear the its demand for _silence_ was either incredibly stupid or suicidal.

The man in the co-driver's seat would be considered both... had it not been the intelligent glint in his eyes. Now, it wasn't that he didn't pick up on the fact that the young woman beside him was seething despite her calm demeanor, but rather that he completely chose to disregard it.

_"You make my dreams come true  
(You-hoo, you, you-hoo, hoo, you, hoo)  
Well, well, well you  
(You-hoo, hoo-hoo-ooh)..."_

The man in question propped his arm on the opened window and rested his head against his palm, his honey-coloured eyes never leaving the side of her face. Or rather, the bruise on the right side of her face. He noted that it was turning the same shade of purple as her eyes.

_"Oh, yeah  
You make my dreams come true  
(You make my dreams)  
Come true  
(You-hoo, you, you-hoo, hoo, you, hoo)..."_

A few seconds ticked away like that before he opened his mouth.

"Stop sulking. You brought that upon yourself," he said offhandedly. His deep voice carried over the song as he continued to carefully observe her face. The young woman with short black hair just kept staring at the road in front of her.

A frown marred his face, making the wrinkles on his forehead stand out. That and his long gray hair were the only signs of his age. A light scowl pulled at his lips when he turned his attention back out of the window. "Fine, ignore me. Not like it's gonna change what happened."

_"On a night when bad dreams become a screamer  
When they're messin' with the dreamer  
I can laugh it in the face  
Twist and shout my way out..."_

The outside view only provided him with so much to look at. There was hardly a discernible thing in the pressing dark of the night. And honestly the music wasn't his entertainment of choice either. Why'd she listen to something like this, he'd never know. One of the possibilities would be to drive him insane, but her priorities seemed far from that at the moment.

_"And wrap yourself around me  
'Cos I ain't the way you found me  
And I'll never be the same  
Oh, yeah  
Well, 'cos you  
(Ooh-ho, hoo-ooh, ooh-oo)..."_

He sneaked a glance in her direction. The pale woman seemed too indulged in driving to pay much attention to anything else which, much to his dismay, included him. That, of course, didn't stop him from _trying _to get her attention.

"So how long do you plan to torture me with this bubbly concoction of pure ear-acid?" He turned to face her. His eyes, which unusually lacked intensity, never left her, just as her eyes never left the road. The song continued to play in the background.

_"You make my dreams come true  
(You-hoo, you, you-hoo, hoo, you, hoo)  
Well, well, well you  
(You-hoo, hoo-hoo-ooh)  
You make my dreams come true  
__(You make my dreams)  
Come true  
__(You-hoo, you, you-hoo, hoo, you, hoo)..."_

"Are you perhaps turning to a new level of sadism? Congratulations, its _maddening_."

Nothing again.

"You are aware you are acting like a child?"

She ignored the provocation.

"I warned you what was going to happen. I warned you, didn't I?"

Let the jabs slide.

"But did you listen? Nooo, of course you didn't. You just had to go. God forbid you actually listen to me for once. And now you have that nicely shaped bruise as a souvenir. "

Drown out the mocking.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Rachel! Even your mother is not _this_ difficult."

No reaction.

Oh come on! That had to have hit a nerve.

He could feel a migraine coming on.

This wasn't working. He leaned back into the seat and released a long tired sigh while running his big calloused hand down his face. He was running out of options, and she wasn't helping either. "I need nicotine," he muttered tiredly.

. . .

Nothing?

Really?!

Oh.

Ohhh ho ho. No. No no no no no that's not how this game went. Blame him? Sure. Ignore him? Go ahead. But discard _this_? She knew better than that. She. **Knew.** Better!

His hand fell away. His eyes and voice suddenly went void of the idle note of pointless harmless chit-chat. "Rachel-"

Her knuckles turned a deathly white.

"-... my pack is with you, right?"

~~ ( O ) ~~

Her eyes widened.

_... was it?_

The smirk of satisfaction melted away far too quickly off of his face as he continued. His voice mockingly carried the note of plain ignorance.

"I just can't seem to find it anywhere and I'm fairly sure I gave it to you. You said you needed a smoke after that... incident." He eyed her almost lazily. "Do you remember?"

_Wait wait wait... She went outside. She definitely lit it. She remembers that. She watched the smoke weave and disperse, disappearing soon after. She thought it was hypnotizing. So she lit it. And then... And then- shit she couldn't remember..._

"I just don't recall if you gave it back to me. I really can't. You were_ so angry_."

_Fuck, shut up! _Her hands. They were trembling now. The leather covering the steering wheel creaked under her sweaty grip. Unconsciously her foot pressed harder on the gas pedal.

_Damn it, think, Rachel! Think! What did she do then? _Facts. She needed to get back to the facts._ The truck was parked in the back. The earth was covered in pavement and the dark brick walls were- they were- _

A delightful purr. "Are you sure you put it out properly?"

_Oh, fuck... No no no no she needed to stop! _Her breathing tempo alarmingly increased. _Eyes on the road. _

She did. She definitely put it out. She was sure of it._ Just keep driving. Don't think about it, don't think about it-_

"Rachel..."

_- don't think about it don't think about it don't think about-_

"Rachel!"

Everything around them went mute the moment her eyes met his. The first time she looked at him, _really_ looked at him, in a very long time. His expression was a gentle, sympathetic one- she almost couldn't recognize him. It softened his face so much.

"It's alright."

It's_ alright._ His voice rang reassuringly in her ears. Wide-eyed, she continued to watch him, unsure. She was waiting for the fury. The judgment. To condemn her for abandoning him. For not listening to him. But it never came. He wasn't angry with her? Her hands ached from the strength of her grip on the steering wheel.

He continued then. His eyes, a gentle colour, bore into hers. Beckoning for her. "It is. Really. I understand."

He meant it. He did. He really did. She felt it. Only he understood.

A flood of relief washed over her, bringing a sting to her eyes as she continued to watch him without so much as a word.

"You..." he took a breath before meeting her eyes again, "You were hoping that this time would be different. I know, sweety. I know. I did the same thing. Once." His eyes grew distant for a moment. "I know how hurt you must be."

Hurt?

**Why. was. she. hurt?**

"But then," he paused. "...I let her go. As you should too, Rachel. You have to forget about her. You don't need her."

He drew closer to her. Slowly, as if approaching a frightened stray. He put his hand on his chest. "You have me." His voice drowned out everything around her, the struggling of the engine and the shuffle of sand underneath the tires.

He assured her again, slower, "You will _always_ have me. You're not alone, Rachel. Do you understand? Because I understand you. I am the _only_ one who understands you." It almost sounded like a plea. For her to understand. To accept it. To stop all this and just accept it all. Accept _him_.

**Something. is. very. wrong.**

"That's why you only need me. There's only us Rachel. You and me. Just like old times. I will never do _that_ to you."

Something was shaking. She could feel it against her back and legs. But the world stood perfectly still in her eyes. It was alarming. The shivers she felt... they weren't hers.

"I'll always be here for you. To guide you. Protect you. But you have to _let me (__**in**__)_ Rachel. No matter what..."

He reached out to her. Panic began to stir in her stomach. Bubbling like acid and rising like bile.

**Snap. out. of. it!**

"-you will _always _be-

**No! Don't. let. him-!**

He laid his hand on her shoulder-

She jerked.

**-SCHRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAACH~!**

~~ ( O ) ~~

She hit the break with full force.

The truck fought against the sand to comply with the sudden demand. The seat-belt pushed against her ribs as the momentum pulled her forward despite that she kept her leg firmly planted on the break. The painful tug of war lasted longer than it should have, knocking the breath right out of her.

Her head hit against the seat when the truck finally came to a screeching halt. She wheezed and hunched forward. The firm grip on the steering wheel was the only thing keeping her from completely slumping downwards.

_...brea-_

Her head hurt, pulsing in the beat of her adrenaline-stricken heart. Darkness pressed against her eyes, despite them being wide open.

_B-Breathe- damn it, breathe-!_

She could feel her limbs beginning to tremble from shock. Little shivers radiated from her bones. Her heart was rapping against her ribs.

_Just breathe- Slowly-_

She concentrated on the sensation of air filling and leaving her lungs. The pressure in her ears slowly started to give way and the first thing she heard was-

"_I'm not a slut, I just love love hahaha-"_

Followed by another cheery beat.

"_Tell me something new_

_Cause I've heard this_

_Okay I'll fuck you_

_A little taste test..."_

Had she been in the right state of mind she would have cringed. Several times in fact. But as she was, could only blink in utter confusion.

"_You'll be my little friend_

_You'll be my little friend_

_You'll be my little friend~..."_

Slowly her senses were starting to come back to her. Darkness transformed into blurry colours, which after another few moments shrank and formed shapes that made sense. Her knees. The dark blue of her jeans stared back at her.

"_And they think we fall in love_

_But that's not it_

_Just want to get some_

_Ain't that some shit..."_

Less hesitant, she blinked once more before straightening up a bit. She uncurled her stiff fingers from the steering wheel and uneasily stretched them back and forth.

"_You'll be my little friend_

_You'll be my little friend_

_You'll be my little friend~..."_

She set her hands down in her lap. Her attention was drawn to the green equalizer on the music player which kept hopping up and down.

"_Yeah, yeah, yeah!_

_I got a little piece of you-hoo~_

_And it's just like wo-" _She hit (not pressed, _**hit**_) the OFF button. Ending the song right _then_ and _there_.

She threw herself back into the seat, heaving one big sigh, and pressed her hands hard against her face, covering it whole.

"Shit..." she muttered. _This wasn't supposed to happen._

Her heartbeat partially slowed down. Not much, but at least it didn't seem like her heart wanted to slam its way out of her ribcage and run for the hills, which weren't that close _at all_. She noted how wet her palms and face were.

She spread her sweaty fingers enough to sneak a peak at the co-drivers seat.

Trigon was pressed flush against his seat, chest heaving rapidly up and down against the seat-belt, staring wide-eyed in shock up ahead. Slowly he turned to her. He muttered something under his breath.

And then...

"The **hell** Rachel!?"

His voice boomed in her ears. _Furious._ "Are you trying to kill us!? What's wrong with you!?" His face turned slightly red. He slumped against his seat and took a deep breath. "Jesus..."

A few minutes after composing himself he looked at her again. "Are you alright?"

She looked away, straight up into the ceiling of the truck as if she was reciting some inner prayer. When she didn't answer him, he tried again.

"Rachel?" He frowned in concern and reached out to her. "Are you-"

"**-DON'T!**" she screamed, flailing her arms in panic.

He froze in place.

He watched her in alarm as she slowly gathered her wits about. A few seconds later she quickly started feeling around the dark gray jacket she was wearing until she found what she was looking for.

A pack of cigarettes.

She visibly relaxed and let out a breath.

Not a second later, she unbuckled her seat-belt and left the truck, slamming the door shut. The man's eyes followed her as she stalked with long angry steps to the side of the truck where he sat.

"Rachel?" he called after her, unbuckling his seat-belt in the process. And just as he was about to reach for the handle, a hand slammed down on the door, halting him. He looked up into her furious eyes.

"**Stay.**"

The growl in the order indicated that this was clearly not up for discussion.

He held her gaze with his own: _unamused_. But he found it in himself to comply and backed his hands away, palms-up in a peaceful gesture.

When he showed no signs of trying to follow her, she leaned away, content that he was, for once, staying put. Not breaking eye-contact, she stepped away from the truck. Reluctantly she turned her back to him and began walking.

She needed to get away. If only for a few minutes. She needed peace and quiet.

Rocks and dry branches crunched under her shoes. Her hands were still trembling. Significantly less than a few minutes ago, but they still were. As slowly as she could, she reached for the cigarette pack and took one out along with the lighter.

She put the cigarette in her mouth and cupped it, the breeze made it difficult to light it. Despite the desert being unbearably hot during the day, the temperature drastically dropped during nighttime. Being colder than most would imagine it to be.

Rachel stopped, inhaling the nicotine wrapped up in the piece of paper and looked up.

Stars were scattered against the various dark shades of the sky. Displaying a small, yet vast portion of the universe before her. Their twinkle reflected in her eyes. In their own mystical way, silently comforting her restless soul. She exhaled the smoke through her nose.

_What_ in the world was she doing?

She knew she shouldn't have gone there. She knew how utterly pointless it was. That nothing would change. And _still_ she did it. Just what was she hoping for?

Hah.

That produced a bitter laugh from her. _How masochistic._ It was far too... what? Sad? Pathetic? Weak? And to top it all off she went there alone. Fully aware of the inevitable outcome and consequences it would leave on her. She should have brought Richard along...

No. Wait. Bad idea.

She thought about it for a moment, inhaling the cigarette again.

Yes. A very, _very_ bad idea. That would've only made it worse. She already had one headache to deal with. One she couldn't escape that easily. She didn't need another one.

Another puff of smoke escaped her while she lowered her head. She needed to stop thinking now. She didn't have the energy to run these circles again. She was tired. She just needed to stop and enjoy her cigarette.

Inhale and exhale.

She repeated the process all the while looking for something to occupy herself with. She settled for staring at her shoes. _That _lost her interest rather quickly. Her eyes moved further up, tracing sad withered yellow patches of grass, the shapes and curves of pebbles, the grainy texture of sand and dirty lifeless fingers resting against-

The cigarette stopped millimeters from her mouth. She frowned. "What in the world?"

The dark obscured further investigation. The faint light that managed to reach to her wasn't of much help either.

She stepped closer and narrowed her eyes. She followed along the shape of the fingers and managed to make out a hand. Upon closer inspection she made out a wrist. An elbow. The curve of a shoulder. She concluded: it was a body.

A human body.

"Hah, well would you look at that!"

The cigarette snapped between her fingers.

Any reaction she might have had to the sight in front of her was instantly forgotten as she grind her teeth. _So much for staying put._

Nonchalantly the white haired man walked up right beside her. Not concerned in the least that there was a (_freaking!_) dead body right in front of them.

"Now _that_," he grinned and pointed with his own cigarette to the unmoving form, "...is the last thing I expected we'd come across."

"Hah... Poor bastard," he chuckled sadistically, putting the cigarette back into his mouth. "So what do you think? Dehydration? Exhaustion?"

Rachel shook her head and crouched down, trying to make out whatever she could in the dark. And that wasn't a lot. But then something caught her eye. Gently, she raised the body's right hand and inspected it. The shirt, she guessed since he wasn't wearing one, he used as a makeshift bandage was slightly covered in crusted dried blood.

Trigon raised an eyebrow at her. "Suicide?"

_No, definitely not._ She thought, laying his hand back down. _He wouldn't have bothered bandaging it if he deliberately wanted a snake to bite him._

"So infection then?" He inquired.

She rubbed the substance from the stained shirt between her fingers, watching it crumble slightly before smearing against her skin. Hey narrowed her eyes. Quickly the young woman held her hair back and brought her ear to the unconscious man's face.

.

.

.

She held her breath.

"He's breathing." Whether she felt amazement or relief at that fact, she wasn't sure. But he was breathing and that meant he was alive. Her heartbeat picked up.

The elderly man only scrunched up his nose. "Bummer."

Rachel pushed the passed out man onto his back before she proceeded to tap his cheek. "Hey! Hey, wake up." It didn't help.

Trigon, not moving from his spot, only watched the whole ordeal with an incredibly bored look on his face. Not one to sit around, he finished off his cigarette and put it out. "You know what we should do?"

He nodded to himself as he looked at the sky. Exhaling the last bit of smoke from his lungs.

"We should leave him to die."

~~ ( O ) ~~

She face-palmed.

"Well just look at him!" He justified himself by nudging the unconscious man with his foot. "He's dead weight anyway."

The young woman, still crouched, only sighed and rubbed her temple. _Oh, God. Here he goes again._

"But... we do need gas," he stated. "I guess there's no point in burning him alive if we end up like him. Leaving him like this, at least we wouldn't interrupt the natural order of the universe and all that nonsense if we let some wild animals feast on his_ flesh_. I mean that's one way to go. There's also-

And he went into a rant. Not really caring if anyone was listening to him while he happily kept listing off things that would probably kill the poor man.

Rachel, once again set on ignoring her unwanted co-driver, reached for the cellphone in her jacket and upon seeing that there wasn't any signal, wholeheartedly concluded that _this _was not her day.

Had there been a wall or a reasonably sized rock in her vicinity, she would have hit her head against it... repeatedly. Just how much more would her mind have to take today? With no way of calling for help, no town within miles, a dying man in the middle of_ nowhere_, barely enough gas to get them **somewhere**, and the only other seat in the truck being occupied by her-

She froze.

Her eyes slowly traveled to the man still going on and on about the wonders of infections.

_Would something like that even work-?_

Rachel came to another conclusion that day.

She was crazy.

She was _absolutely_, **positively**, no-doubt-about-it... crazy.

"- but dying of dehydration can't _really_ compare to dying of gangrene. It's just not the same. And we can't forget creatures like poisonous snakes, spiders, scorpions, aaaaaaaaaand-!" he turned to her almost gleefully before all emotion drained from his face.

"...what are you doing?"

Hands under armpits, Rachel was dragging the young man, already half-way to the truck. Trigon frowned.

"Rachel?" he asked, not quite sure if he was seeing this correctly. The dark haired woman leaned the unconscious body on the truck while she proceeded to open the door.

"Rachel Arella Roth..." His face and voice hardened with each word as he marched over to the woman who was by now throwing the man's arm over her shoulder in a weak attempt of lifting him into the car's seat. For someone of her stature it was no easy task, but she was managing...

She practically dropped him into the seat with a huff before the limp torso collapsed onto her.

Well... _barely..._ but she was still managing.

A voice hissed venomously into her ear.

"I told you to _leave._ **him**. to. **Die**_**!**_"

"Oh, _fuck off,_" Rachel growled out, fighting to steady the falling body and strap it into the seat or die trying. It was the battle of the ages.

When she heard the click of the seat-belt it signified the end and she emerged from the truck victoriously.

"Phew..." She wiped her damp brow with the back of her hand and let the door of the vehicle close shut. With a satisfied nod, she turned-

A hand was blocking her way.

"**Rachel**..."

Trigon was visibly grinding his teeth now.

"Are you disobeying me again?"

There was no joking in his tone. Furious yellow eyes, demanding obedience, bore into her wide purple ones. She held his gaze, her heart soaring into her throat...

… and then looked away.

Not in shame. Not in defeat. Not even in defiance. She just blinked and simply _looked away. _She ducked under his hand and proceeded to circle the front of the truck to the drivers seat.

"Don't ignore me you **little** **wench!**" He slammed his fist against the hood, _livid_.

The woman in question still payed no heed to the seething man. She opened the door, buckled up, and with a turn and a click of a key, started the truck. The man stepped back when the truck moved and then, without the slightest hesitation, drove on.

"**RACHEL!"**

~~ ( O ) ~~

Her ears were ringing.

The echo of his voice slowly dissipating out of her brain. She gave herself a mental pat on the shoulder.

_You did good, Rachel... You did good._

She glanced briefly at her new, dirty, and slightly beat-up passenger. His hair was blond and his face was fairly dirty. His skin was a painful red and he looked fairly young. Her age maybe?

Rachel sighed. Not even bothering looking in the rear-view mirror to check on the man she had just deliberately left behind without a second thought, she reached out and turned on the music player again. Another random obnoxious tune was starting up.

"You can fucking stay there for all I care."

* * *

**Little rant on my part: I don't know how much you guys would agree with Trigon displaying any affection for Rachel over here. But honestly? Even in the show, where he was _much_ less human than he is here, he still showed some form of parental concern. I figured, why not? He is a human here (if only appearances wise) and I need him to be for the sake of the story.**

**You know I actually thought I knew what I was doing while writing this chapter. Turns out... I didn't. Rewrote the damn thing 5 times over, and still didn't manage to write it the way I wanted to. It feels incomplete. Or maybe I'm just being the perfectionist I am. What do you guys think?**

**Simon says: Write a review!**

**... So? Go on. Do it. =_=  
**

**xMF**


	3. Chapter 3

**So who's happy to see another update? Come on, let me see those hands. I know I am. ^^**

**Much love and 'thank you's to: **Zinnia99 , LightAngelHiroko, TakeonMe-Mow, Soulfulbard, DreamerAtDawn and Mirtilo for reviewing or either following or faving me. **I award thee with a smiley! :D**

* * *

**2) 'Obstructed Views' (TT fic)**

**Plot:** He had decided: he needed a change. But what he didn't realize was that she wasn't offering herself as one when she found him passed out on the side of the road. (AU)

**Chars:** Beastboy, Raven

**Genre:** Drama

**Rating:** strong T

**Beta:** SuperWhoM

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Teen Titans. Same goes for the song 'Stay the night' by James Blunt. Story idea? Mine! **

**Note: Same as for the previous chapter. The song has ****nothing**** to do with the chapter except set an ambient and express how I imagined it in my head. I'll try to keep the unneeded lyrics to a minimum, promise.**

**Chapter 3**

So... He was dead.

…Oh wow, never expected _that _to be the first sentence to cross his mind. But, well... It was what it was. No point in arguing. Oddly enough, that very fact, the fact that he was **dead**, didn't seem right to him. He wasn't upset over it; don't get him wrong. Truth was, he was kind of indifferent. But it just felt as if the term '_being dead_' was... misplaced? Was that the word he was looking for? He wasn't sure.

Maybe the whole situation just didn't sink yet into his non-functioning brain? People did say that he was a bit on the slow side...

Shouldn't he react in some way other than 'be okay with it'? Like, maybe, have regrets or cry or _something_? He remembered that he had had a heated discussion with some of his high-school friends years ago about what it would be like if they were ghosts. The conclusion they reached together, after discarding a lot of sci-fi nonsense and decided to stick with what was more probable, was that it would suck.

Okay, they didn't really use the word 'suck', but Garfield thought that it pretty much summed everything up. He however, forever the optimist, assured himself that being dead couldn't be _too_ bad. He couldn't feel the sun roasting his skin anymore. That was a plus. And he was... kind of comfortable. Snugly even. So there. Not all that horrible.

Wait... That didn't make sense. Didn't he fall flat on his face?

…So why was he feeling pressure on his back?

There was a dull ache pulsing in the back of his head, like a beacon leading him into awareness. That was when Garfield started picking up on other things too. Like the fact that his back itched, irritatingly so. And there was a repetitive swishing noise from his right. Gusts of cold wind blowing in his face and he heard-

...Was that...?

…_W_as that _James Blunt_?

.

.

.

The afterlife had a background theme? Well, that was _odd_. Not unpleasant, but it was definitely weird. Who knew the dead appreciated present day folk rock singers?

Hold the phone… Was…was someone touching his face?! _What the hell?!_

The fingers were soothingly cold, gliding across his cheeks down to his jaw. That's when something wet touched his lips.

And in that very exact moment, Garfield made the mistake of opening his eyes.

~~ ( O ) ~~

Her hand was limply resting on top of the steering wheel. With heavy eyes she stared ahead into the dull grayness of the morning. Her other hand was propped on the window holding her head. God, she was so tired. Had the music not had such an irritating high pitch Rachel would have actually considered letting herself fall asleep.

"_It's 72 degrees  
Zero chance of rain  
It's been a perfect day..."_

She just _had to_ go off the highway during her fit of anger and into the desert._ Bloody genius you are Rachel! Way to go! _She bitterly congratulated herself. Not only did she have extra hours of driving now, but she also had no idea where she was heading. It could be hours until they reached a gas station or anything of the sort, but most of it all-

She glanced at her still unconscious co-driver and sighed heavily, fighting off her anxiety.

"_We're all spinning on our heels  
So far away from real  
In California..." _

It could be hours until they reached a hospital, a doctor or... hell, even some small pharmacy would do. This man was not going to be a happy camper when he woke up. His cheekbones and nose were a glossy red color that would put Rudolf's nose to shame. And the rest of his body wasn't too far off either.

"_We watched the sunset from our car  
We all took it in  
And by the time that it was dark  
You and me had something, yeah!"_

She had taken a few breaks earlier during which she had slowly poured water into the man's mouth to keep him alive. Some of it he sputtered out before falling unconscious again, some of it he swallowed. The unease that settled in her stomach didn't lessen even then. Who knew how long he had been there, aimlessly wandering the desert? These measly tiny little gulps he managed to take in from time to time barely seemed enough to keep his body functioning even when unconscious.

Speaking of which...

"_And if this is what we've got__  
__Then what we've got is gold__  
__We're shining bright and I want you__  
__I want you to know..."_

Rachel slowed the truck down to a stop on the side of the road and reached behind her seat. Taking a two-liter coke bottle that was now filled with water, she left the truck and opened the door to the co-driver's seat. She cupped the man's chin, tilting his head back a bit to part his chapped lips and leaned the bottle against them. Gently she lifted it, putting in quite an effort to only let small sips of water escape and not drown the poor soul.

The skin underneath her fingers was warm and it brought a whole new level of discomfort to her. It just felt wrong touching some stranger's face like that. Kind of... violating. She herself wasn't too keen on physical contact so her initiating it, with a stranger of a man, who wasn't even aware of it, was nothing short of... awkward.

_Awkward, but necessary._ She reminded herself. She could swallow a bit of discomfort if it meant keeping this man alive. _Someone has to._

There was an unwelcoming weight in that thought. One that brought a distant echo of a screaming woman to her ears. She screwed her eyes shut, refusing to recall what happened. Whether it was in the fear of an emotional trauma she'd face or the wavering sense of responsibility she felt towards keeping this man alive, she wasn't sure. But she was not going to think about it. Not now, at least.

Rachel inhaled a slow breath and opened her eyes to a red face with wide green eyes staring straight into hers. Surprise dawned upon her and before she could react the man, much like a balloon deflating before it could be tied... spit all over her face.

"Gah!" she stumbled back, dropping the bottle in the process of covering her face, while the newly awoken guest of honor was busy sputtering out water. She angrily wiped the droplets off her face, already set on glaring at the man. "Ugh! Disgusting! Just what do-"

The blond was coughing his lungs out and wheezing for breath, fighting against the jammed seat-belt mechanism that held him captive and strapped. Worry drowned any snappy remark she might have had. "Wait! Hold still!" She bent down, pushing against his jerking torso to reach for the eject button.

When she finally pressed it Rachel pulled back, allowing the man room to bend over and let his coughing fit seize on its own. "T-... Thank... you..." he wheezed out.

"Easy there," she advised, "Try to control your breathing. Through your nose and out your mouth. Don't force it." She placed her hand on his back, an action that produced a loud pained hiss from the man.

Startled, she quickly moved her hand away and cringed. "Oh, shit. Sorry!" She'd forgotten his sunburn.

The blond shook his head in attempt to show there was no need for apologizing, while fighting a few more coughs. Rachel knelled down, patiently waiting for him to gather his wits about. "How are you feeling?"

Tired shaken green eyes slowly turned to her, assessing her features. "Am I..." The man opened his mouth, unsure of himself.

"Am I in heaven?"

Rachel just stared at him. Her patience quickly snuck off into the back row of her mind. "You're in a _truck_." She had to emphasize slowly. "So _no,_ you are not in heaven. And if your next sentence doesn't happen to be a smack-worthy pun, I'll chalk this up to your brain being fried."

"No, no... I'm sorry I'm," his attempt at apologizing was cut short when he cringed. He pressed his face into his palms, covering the pained grimace on his lips. "I'm... just... so confused."

Rachel looked away, shame elbowing her in the gut. _Yeah, sarcasm was definitely necessary. Good job. I guess empathy runs in the family._ She ran her hand along her scalp and sighed. She looked at him again. "Does your head hurt?"

A weak nod was her only reply.

"Right." Standing up, she searched for the bottle she'd dropped earlier. It was lying a foot away, most of its content spilled and soaked into the ground. She raised it, measuring the amount of liquid inside. A little less than one quarter remained.

She pressed her lips into a thin line and glanced in the direction of her disoriented companion. _This is not going to end well._

~~ ( O ) ~~

So... He was alive?

Right?

Or maybe he wasn't?

_This is so messed up. _He pressed his closed eyes tighter.

Was this not the afterlife? It certainly didn't feel like it. Nothing dead probably had to endure the massive migraine that was beating up his brain big time. Just what happened? How was he not dead? The pounding in his head made it harder to remember. He…he was walking. Climbing. A-And then he recalled getting angry. Falling down. Yeah, he fell down. And he was lying face down when... when... he... gave up.

Weakness seeped into his muscles then, making him aware of how utterly exhausted he was. A bitter taste of resentment made itself right at home there. Its neighbor, shame, made sure it felt quite welcomed.

_I gave up._

That fact hit him hard. Harder than the migraine. Suddenly the headache seemed like the lesser of two evils and he no longer felt like he had the right to wish it away. Each painful wave felt very well deserved.

"Here," the raspy female voice shook him and made him glance up. The tip of a plastic bottle stared him right in the face. "Drink this."

Hesitantly, he lifted himself up and took the bottle. Staring between it and the girl with tired eyes like the connection in his brain was long broken and he had no idea what she wanted him to do.

"There's not much," she continued. She leaned on the side of the truck, taking a small box out of her jacket's pocket. "But it should help with the headache."

Garfield stared at the sloshing liquid before lifting it to his lips. The smooth tickle of water felt almost alien in his mouth. Invading, but so _good_. Drop after drop, the urge to just gulp it down was overbearing.

"Don't drink all of it." The woman warned, throwing him a quick glance while pulling out a cigarette. "We still need some to keep you hydrated during the trip."

Almost unwillingly parting the bottle from his lips, Garfield released a heavy sigh and breathed out a 'thank you'. Her only response was a half-interested 'mmhm' while she proceeded to light up her smoke.

Silence ensued.

More awake than he was a moment before, he sat up. The cracked pavement of the road and the rest of the surroundings were all a sleepy gray color. Dark hues of the sky were fading into a mix of light morning colors beyond the horizon. The air was chilly in contrast to his skin, making the hairs on his arms stand up.

Still holding the plastic bottle, staring off in a daze, he was sure of it now. Unlikely as it was. Far-fetched. _Absurd_. And just down right improbable-

"I'm not dead."

It slipped pass his lips before he could help it. The hoarseness of his voice made him cringe. The woman beside him stared off into the distance. She lowered her cigarette and exhaled. "No. You're not."

He spun his head towards her. "B-But... how?"

Their eyes met once more. She had a bemused expression on her face and he looked at her as if he honestly believed she could provide him an answer to that. Should she humor him? Rachel threw her head back against the truck, rubbing her tired eyes with the back of her hand. "I don't know. Pure dumb luck is the only explanation I have."

"Oh..." Well what kind of answer did he expect anyway? But...wow. Luck, huh? He spun the word inside his mouth. For something that saved his life, it felt pretty tasteless. Maybe because he still didn't believe it? He was honestly half expecting to wake up now, alone, God knows where, face in the dirt with some creature chewing on his foot.

"What's you name?"

"Huh?" Startled, he looked up.

"Your name," the dark haired woman repeated, not bothering even to look at him. "What is it?"

Momentarily stunned, he clumsily muttered, "Oh, um, i-it's Gar- I mean, it's Garfield."

After a small pause, she exhaled a puff of smoke and continued, unfazed by his mumbling. "Like the cat?"

"Heh, yeah." He sighed, half expecting a laugh or at least a joke. One of those two usually followed his introduction. Not that he minded much. Her response, however, was only a nod of her head. He waited, naturally assuming that this was the part where she introduced herself.

He obviously assumed wrongly. A few more moments of utterly uncomfortable silence made him bite his lip. "What's yours?" He cringed, quickly adding, "Um, your name, I mean."

If she noticed his awkwardness, she didn't show it. "Rachel."

Garfield mustered up the friendliest smile he could, feeling the need to be at least polite, if not on her good side, and extended his hand, ready to get up. "Nice to meet you, Rachel. And thank yo-"

Reality became blurry right before his eyes. His knees gave away far too quickly for him to even notice. The world tilted downwards and he could only watch the ground he was about to kiss in an unwanted reunion when a pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Careful!"

The woman jumped in front of him not a second too soon, supporting his weight with quite a bit of difficulty. His skin burned upon contact, making him groan in protest. He tried righting himself back on his feet, to spare them both pain. Much to his chagrin, his limbs refused to cooperate even for her sake.

Somehow, she managed to push him back into the seat.

"Don't force yourself," she breathed out, letting go of him. "Better not try any sudden movements for a while. The sun hit you pretty bad."

Yeah, and he was pretty sure he wanted to hit it back right about now.

"Sorry," he moaned out. The migraine returned tenfold, putting him in a dizzy spell. "Jesus..." He closed his eyes, cradling his face with his hands.

Rachel, while watching the man named Garfield, was developing a headache of her own. Exhaustion with a mix of anxiety was definitely not her cup of tea. Everything seemed to be against her these days, leaving her to improvise and calculate the best way to get _wherever _without wasting supplies they already majorly lacked. Yeah, viewing the situation without any doom-and-gloom highlighting was going to be hard.

Bringing the cigarette to her lips again, Rachel noticed something odd. Her palm was wet.

Her brows furrowed. _Sweat?_

And not hers.

_Greeeeaaaaat._ A small scowl framed her lips. Wanting nothing more than to wipe it off, she reached for the side of her jeans when something dawned on her. Purple eyes narrowed in confusion, automatically traveling back up at the blond.

Sweat? When it's still freezing outside?

Confused even more, Rachel rubbed the substance between her fingers. They slipped easily against each other, the oily layer that covered them allowing them to do so. _Oily?_ Why would her finger be-

Her eyes widened. That... was not sweat.

~~ ( O ) ~~

The poor sunburned Garfield was still cradling his aching head when he heard the following:

"Bend over!"

Fast and almost comically, his head popped up. "What?!"

The urgency in the command was startling, but not fully reaching him. He turned in her direction only to see her march up and, quite _frighteningly_ he may add, glare down at him.

"Do it!" She spat. "_Now!_" Obviously not waiting for him, Rachel grabbed him by his hair and pushed his head between his knees. The action produced a loud girlish yelp from him. One he was already set on wholeheartedly denying ever happened.

A second passed like that. Than two, three, four... -_Just what was she doing?!_

"Shit," she muttered.

Okay _that_ did not sound good.

Rachel chewed on her lip. Big red blisters were lined along his back. The greasy bumps resembled wet plastic bubbles instead of the regular skin tissue that was supposed to be there.

He felt her move. The hand that was holding his head down loosened a bit when she leaned back. "Garfield, right?"

"Y-Yeah?" He nodded weakly, his chest tightening as the pause prolonged.

"Don't move and listen to me very carefully now..."

She let go of him slowly, successfully conveying the message to stay in that position, before she continued. "You have second degree burns on your back. Whatever you do-" She slammed the door where he sat shut. "**Don't**, under _any_ circumstances, lean onto your back. Understand?"

_W-What? Burns? B-But-_

"But I- I don't feel anything," he admitted, shaken up a bit. " I mean, i-it itches a bit but-"

"Not for long it won't," she cut him off. Going around and taking her place at the drivers seat. She turned her head towards him. "Listen to me..."

He straightened himself up a bit, getting a better, full view of her face. Short black hair with a slightly boyish cut, pale skin with a large bruise stretching between her right eye and ear, her eyes and jaw set firm in a serious, no-joking-allowed manner.

"_This,_" she emphasized. "Deserves a warning. A big one. And that's the only one I plan on giving you."

Her eyes dared him to look away from her. His throat tightened to the point where he could feel his own pulse.

"That itch," she continued slowly and intensely, "will turn into pain. A whole _lot_ of pain. In how long, I don't know. But when it does, I need you to hold out as long as you can without passing out."

_Passing out?_

"No matter how much it hurts, you need to stay awake. Got it?" The words struck a cord in him, several in fact, resonating the seriousness she successfully channeled into his brain as a wave of coldness that shook his bones. He recognized it. It was similar to the feeling that drove him to start walking when he realized he was left alone in the middle of nowhere. The same drive that pushed him beyond his strength and willed his every step.

"Got it?" she repeated, fiercer. Her eyes refused to leave his unless she got an answer. She _needed_ to know.

And that brought a whole new taste of _fear _Garfield didn't want to acknowledge.

Words failing to form in his mouth, he nodded. The woman beside him, albeit reluctantly, accepted that. "Good." And with that she started the truck back up.

* * *

**Not much happening here BUT, ouch, Gar, you really nailed it this time. So our two main characters met. Bravo me! Anyone dare and guess how this little trip will turn out? Careful (grins wickedly) you might just jinx them. **

**How did that latin quote go again? Quid pro quo? So I write something, and you write something back. Sounds fair? ^^**

**Until the next update!**

**xMF **


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